The Silvercrest Council chamber was never truly silent—but tonight, the quiet carried weight.
Seven Elders sat in a perfect arc upon elevated obsidian thrones, each draped in silver cloaks etched with ancient sigils. Together, they formed the highest authority of the werewolf world—unchallenged, unyielding, and dangerous when united.
At the center of the circular chamber stood Ethan Lyric.
Unbowed.
Unbroken.
Elder Rowan, the First Elder, rested his hands on the carved staff before him.
“The Alpha’s Deadline draws closer,” he said, his voice calm but heavy. “Four weeks remain.”
To his right, Elder Kael’s sharp gaze narrowed.
“The bond has not been declared,” she added. “Yet your aura is… disturbed.”
A low hum of agreement followed.
Elder Marius leaned forward, his tone cold.
“You
